Run Boy Run
by Ashtree1165
Summary: Drabble on Turlough's experience upon first arriving on Earth after exile. ONE-SHOT Rated T for safety.


**A short story I wrote on Turlough when he was first exiled to Earth. I'm taking a LOT of artistic liberty on Trion and its people and why Turlough was banned after his planet's civil war. Because the show says little to nothing about it.**

**If you don't know Turlough, you're missing out. Best companion of all time.**

**Hope you like it.**

**Run Boy Run**

* * *

He had to find a way to get the hell off this dump of a rock it's inhabitants liked to call a planet. He'd do anything, well, just about anything. And honestly, could his people have picked a worse day to exile him?

This damn planet, Earth he recalled his people had referred to it as, had positively retched weather. The moment he had arrived dark clouds began to gather overhead, blocking out the light blue sky and single sun as it just began its decent to the west.

Moments later a crack of thunder sounded across the vacant fields. Causing birds to spring from their hiding places among the weeds and flitter away in fright, followed by a blindingly bright flash of lightning. All followed up by the heavy storm clouds releasing their pint up moisture. Letting loose an absolute downpour on poor Turlough. Effectively soaking him to the bone within minutes.

Turlough shook his head in disgust. He'd been here no more than an hour or so, and he had already learned to despise this planet. His hatred fuelled by his longing to return to his own home and his growing displeasure at now being absolutely drenched. But his planet was light years away from his in a completely different galaxy. How his people had decided to ban him to this green and blue orb he hadn't the slightest clue. All he knew was that he was tired and hungry and longed for nothing more than his soft, warm bed back on Trion.

But that wasn't going to happen. He could never go back home, he'd spend the rest of his days on Earth. Political exiles could absolutely never return back to Trion. If they did choose to, they'd be treated like prisoners and locked away or even tortured for the rest of their meaningless days.

Turlough sighed and dragged a tired hand down his haggard face, ruffling his gingery hair and flicking water droplets from it. The teleportation device his people had used to get him here took more out of him than he'd originally thought. He'd been wandering the country side for what felt like hours, but he knew to only be an hour and a half. Give or take. And he was exhausted.

He felt ridiculous, aimlessly wandering through the waist high grass in seemingly the middle of absolutly nowhere. Turlough shook his head, green grass. That was knew to him. Back on Trion most everything was some shade of blue of other. Dark blue-nearly black tree trunks coated in a bright and beautiful lighter tone of blue leafs.

What bothered him the most was the bland sky and single pathetic sun that had been visible less than an hour ago.

Back on Trion the sky was a spectacular sight. All different hues of pinks and purples blending and swirling together to create the perfect horrizon. And the three suns of all different sizes would slowly set in their respected directions. And then at night, oh don't even get Turlough started on Trion nights. They were a brilliant sight, and he'd miss them for the rest of his days, he knew. The five moons. Oh how he already missed those moons as they shone, illuminating the blue tented grass and cobblestone paths that ran through his home town. He would always remember those lantern lit path ways, connecting the whole village, every cottage and every lovely shoppe and café as well.

But that's all it would ever be. A memory. A faint glimpse into his past that he could only see. Never to touch.

Turlough shook his head, as if he could simply shake the thoughts away. As if it would ever be that easy. As if anything in his crazy crazy life had ever been that easy. He needed to stop dwelling on his past and the life that was so cruelly ripped from him and focus on the present. On the now. On what in the hell he was supposed to do on Earth!

Turlough squinted, trying to see through the heavy onslaught of rain as it poured down, obscuring his vision. Usually he loved rain, he found it rather peaceful. Mathodic even. But that was when he was inside his home, warm and cozy with a book. Not caught in the middle of the great storm.

Turlough peered through the rain, trying to make out where the faint glow in the distance could be coming from. God he hoped it was civilisation. He wanted food, a shower, and sleep. In that order. Now. No questions and no exceptions.

He quickened his pace and continued to trudge across the now muddy ground, his old boots slipping a bit in the mud, causing him to loose his footing and stagger a few times here and there. He hated mud, reminded him of the damn civil war back on his planet. The blasted war that eventually led to his exile. But Turlough just toughened it out, baring his teeth and pushing through the growing storm. He was a soldier, he'd be fine. He'd been through worse.

As Turlough got closer he could make out the buildings before him. It wasn't much, just a small town forgotten by time. At first Turlough was relieved at the sight of the village, hoping he could finally relax and pick it all back up come daylight. But then another thought occurred.

Humans.

What would they do with him? Did they even know that aliens existed? He thought he heard something during his short lived trial about the Earthlings and their ignorance to the expanding universe around them. Or at least most of them not knowing. The ones that did were dismissed as crazy and ignored by the others Or evn shipped off to looney bins. But that still didn't mean they wouldn't find out about him eventually.

Turlough's stomach clenched uncomfortably as he approached the town. Oh my god, he had butterflies. Turlough groaned, god he was like a child. So many questions floating across his mind. He couldn't deny he was scared. He'd never been to any other planets before, there was no telling what could happen. He didn't even know what the Earthlings looked like. What if they were crazed tentacle clad beasts with seven eyes and a hunger for flesh? What if they were too fast and he couldn't out run them? What if-

"Son?"

Turlough froze on the spot, all military experience flying out the window. He never was a very reliable soldier anyhow. And he had god awful people skills and always was a tad socially awkward growing up. But he wasn't growing up damn it! He was a grown up now.

Slowly and ever so cautiously, Turlough turned around to face the voice that had clearly spoken directly to him. His first alien encounter. For some reason it was t as exciting as he always imagined. As Turlough turned, the tension immediately left his body.

The man, for it was obvious that the sex of the Earthling was in fact male, looked just like Turlough. Well, basically, besides a few personal features. But Turlough assumed all Earthlings were like that, just like Trions, he could hardly imagine a planet where all it's inhabitants looked one hundred percent alike. That would cause for quite the confusion.

"What on earth are you doing out here?" The elder man barked, voice gruff with age, from under the small canopy above the door to the local pub behind him.

Why on Earth indeed.

"It's storming its bloody arse off!"

Turlough's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. Why in the hell would this old man care about him? "I- I'm not sure to be honest. I'm sort of lost," Turlough confessed. And it was all true, he didn't have the slightest inkling as to where he could be.

The man nodded, "well come on inside and get dry", he ordered. Yet oddly kindly.

Turlough nodded and complied. Hurriedly dashing inside the building, the man seemed nice enough. So why the hell not? Turlough took comfort in the soft and welcoming glow the pub emanated with its warmth. He shut the door behind him before anymore rain could get in and sighed, slouching against the bar. He was so bloody tired. More so than he thought, he realised as his eyelids began to droop a bit, taking solace in the warmth of the building.

"Have a seat, I'll fix some tea," the man offered as be stepped behind the counter.

Turlough obeyed and clambered into the nearest rickety old chair. Resting his head in his hands on the wooden bar top. His eyes had just flittered shut -again- when he was suddenly hit with a soft towel which landed on his head.

"Dry off, you're soaked to the bone."

Turlough silently and happily did as the man said, grateful for his kindness and hospitality. Though he suspected not all Earthlings were like this, he'd just gotten lucky.

The man came back with a steaming mug of tea in his hands. Giving Turlough a small smile through his greying beard as he set it down before him.

"Thanks," said Turlough, handing the man his now rather wet towel back. Usually Turlough would be slightly offended and a bit argumentative at such things, not liking others sympathy. But this was different, this man wasn't sending him sympathetic glances over his shoulder, he was simply taking the moral high ground and doing the right thing. The kind thing.

The other man nodded, understandingly, and tossed the towel on the counter behind him. "Names Patrick McCoy," he introduced himself, extending his hand. "But people 'round hear usually just call me Pat."

Turlough shook his calloused and aged hand, smiling politely. "Vislor Turlough. Nice to meet you Pat, thanks again for your hospitality."

"Don't mention it, I couldn't simply let a kid like yourself go wandering around in weather as bloody dreadful as that now could I?"

"Well I suppose you could of. It surly wouldn't have been the morally correct thing to do, and I'm glad you didn't." Turlough stated, taking a test sip of the strange drink Patrick had delivered him with.

Turlough was pleasantly surprised at finding that he rather liked the odd liquid. It was simply spectacular, tasting similar to a favoured drink of his back on Trion.

Turlough had even surprised himself with dismissing the incorrect assumption that he was just a kid. He was far from an innocent child. He'd seen war, fought and killed his own brothers for the land he loved. It was an impossible battle that may never end. Though the West was winning, but the East not too far behind either.

A few minutes came and passed with companionable silence as Turlough nursed his cuppa.

"You have anywhere to go kid?" Pat questioned, eyeing him carefully. Taking in his gaunt frame and sunken eyes. He looked worn and beaten, but most of all, he looked tired. The look truly didn't suit such a physically young man.

Turlough seemed to ponder this for a brief moment before slowly shaking his head, the simple movement weighing down on the little energy he had left in the tank.

Patrick nodded as if he'd just came to a conclusion. "You can stay in the extra room upstairs. There's a pull out couch you can sleep on, it's not terribly comfortable but it'll do you some good to rest. You look as though you're about to drop any second."

Turlough nodded. "Th- thank you." He stumbled on his words finding it increasingly difficult to stay awake. Patrick was right, he was about to drop any second. It was simply a matter of how soon.

Turlough had followed Patrick out of the pub and up the old, narrow, creaky staircase that let to the housing part of the small building. Not questioning a thing for once, he was just to damn exhausted. It wasn't a usual kind of drowsiness, it was just bone deep tiredness that weighed down his entire being. Enveloping him in its sheet of exhaustion. It took all he had just to keep his eyes open for as long as he did. Not that it did him much good. Everything was out of focus, blurring into a jumbled mess before him, his body and mind too tired to even see, let alone walk, straight.

Turlough had attempted to assist Patrick in the assembling of the couch turned bed, but only succeeded in tripping over his clumsy long legs. When the bed was finished Turlough waisted no time in clambering onto it. Nearly face planting the springy mistress. It wasn't as comfortable as his bed back home, but who was he to complain. His own people didn't even want him. He was a political enemy of an entire planet. How did that even happen? Just last week he was fighting for that damn planet and all its people, people that turned against him with no hesitation.

He was just grateful that Patrick wasn't questioning him so vigorously like most people pry would. Though Turlough liked to think that was part of the wisdom that came with age. But he knew the questions would come eventually. Maybe nkt now, but definitly soon. Weather he liked it or not.

Turlough closed off his mind, blocking all the thoughts that haunted him and the world around him. He was asleep nearly on impact.


End file.
